Breaking It
by Nina542
Summary: When confronted with a troubling phone call, Captain Montgomery must decide how to break the news to Beckett - knowing that in her time of need, Castle will be there. Season 3 spoilers for past eps and possibly the upcoming L.A. episode. T for language.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi, everyone! I've had a few different Castle stories going around in my head for a few months now. This is the second one I've gotten down onto paper, but the first one I've actually published. I hope you enjoy it! Critiques are always welcome, and as a disclaimer: Castle is owned by ABC.

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The bright May sun shone through Captain Roy Montgomery's fourth floor office windows, casting warm beams across the room and causing the dust particles to glow as they floated lazily through the rays of light. It was only mid-morning, but the heat coming from the windows had already cooked the room. Deciding he was finally too hot, Montgomery stopped index-finger-tapping his email to the Commissioner and stood from his desk. Walking past a pair of standard-issue cabinets full of files, a ficus plant and a framed picture of Barack Obama – a personal reminder of what black men can achieve – he opened his office door it in an attempt to let the air circulate.

Killing two birds with one stone, Montgomery used the opportunity to survey his officers and detectives. Standing in the doorway, Montgomery cast a quick, sharp eye around the buzzing floor, inspecting his knights like a king would from the throne. Most people sat at their desks, either talking on the phone, typing at their computer, or filling out paperwork. Or a combination of the three. Some he could see were in the break room discussing matters over coffee, and others still were walking with file folders under their arms. They all looked busy. Efficient. Exactly what he liked to see.

Finished his scan, Montgomery was about to return to his desk and email when he heard someone sneeze. Loudly. Curious, he followed the sounds of "bless you"s to Detective Kate Beckett, who was sitting at her desk about twenty feet away. She was reaching for a Kleenex from the box next to her computer monitor with one hand and rubbing her sinuses with the other.

"Feeling all right, Detective?" the captain called over.

Beckett raised her head and smiled at her superior. "Yes, Sir. Just a bit of delayed hay fever. I'm fine."

"Good. Just make sure to double-check the label if you end up popping a pill. Can't have you falling asleep during a shoot-out."

"Not to worry, Sir, I don't plan on participating in one of those today," Beckett answered, meaningfully glancing at the neat stacks of files set around her desk.

Smiling in understanding at each other, Beckett gave Montgomery a quick nod before blowing her nose and returning to the document she'd be working on. The captain suspected his lead homicide detective was only about a quarter of the way through the final reports for the Zach Lenzi case she and her team had closed just yesterday. She'd be doing paperwork all day today. And most of tomorrow, from the looks of it.

Montgomery continued to watch Beckett, the way a proud father watches his daughter. He noted how sharp and professional she looked in her navy suitjacket. How confidently and intelligently she tackled the work in front of her. She made smart decisions, didn't crumble under pressure, and was a natural leader. Simply put, Beckett was the best detective he had. The best New York had.

Apparently sensing that she was still being watched, Beckett raised her head and gave the captain an expectant look.

"Sir?" she asked, as if anticipating that he had more to say.

"Keep up the good work, Detective."

She nodded, slightly confused but grateful for the compliment. "Thank you, sir."

As she looked back down at her paperwork, a tendril of the detective's long, wavy brown hair slipped from her collarbone, only to be pulled behind her ear a moment later. And as Montgomery stalled for just a few seconds longer, he wondered for the hundredth time why she'd decided to grow her hair out. She'd had a cropped cut a few years ago, and it made her seem a little more like one of the guys. Knowing how hard the detective worked to be accepted by her male colleges, her captain couldn't imagine why she seemed perfectly happy with a hairstyle that was decidedly more feminine.

No, that wasn't true. He had his suspicions. Well, just one, actually. And that suspicion was coming from the break room towards her carrying two mugs of steaming coffee. A man.

But not just any man. Best-selling mystery novelist, Rick Castle.

As if on cue, Castle caught Montgomery's eye and shot him a quirky grin and quick nod before reaching his destination. After setting down one of the mugs next to Beckett's computer monitor, he lowered himself into his usual spot – the chair next to her desk – and brought his own mug to his lips.

Montgomery couldn't help letting out a short chuckle as he turned from the writer's Armani suit-clad back and returned to his own desk. Richard freaking Castle. If years ago someone had told the captain that by 2011 he'd have a world-famous, rich-as-sin, alien-abduction-spinning author following his best detective around like a lost puppy...a lovesick lost puppy that finished her sentences...he would have raised an eyebrow and asked if he'd also be getting a third eye. A third eye that shot lasers.

And yet – somehow – it worked. They worked. Montgomery never would have imagined that someone as organized, controlled, and procedural as Beckett would have ever found Castle – between the wise-cracks, sexual innuendos and general immaturity – anything more than a liability and complete annoyance. Meanwhile, Montgomery himself only originally allowed the writer to hang around in order to make him and the rest of the NYPD look good. But here they were, three years later, with Castle a respected part of the 12th precinct and Beckett working with someone she admittedly relied on and considered her partner.

And they were good. No. _Separately_, they were good. _Together_, they were unstoppable. Cracking casing with lightning speed...pulling confessions from suspects without breaking a sweat...finding answers in places no one else would even think to look. Sure, Castle was still a thorn in Montgomery's side from time to time, and the Beckett-Castle knockdown dragouts were things of legend at the 12th, but put them on the case and they would close it. Period.

Yet what truly amazed the senior officer as well as the rest of the officers and detectives they worked with – not to mention a handful of suspects – was that despite these masterful skills of detection both obviously possessed, neither Castle nor Beckett seemed to realize how each felt about the other.

Granted, they were poker-face pros, but Montgomery was no fool. No amount of practice would have been able to completely hide the look of heartbreak he'd seen on Beckett's face when Castle had walked away with his ex two summers ago. She'd been a professional about it, Montgomery was proud of her for that, but when Castle had stumbled back into their lives just a few months later it took some serious restraint not to put them both in a room and order them to come clean with each other. It had been so obvious that she was hurting and yet so clear that he was determined to win back the right to sit in the chair next to her desk. Determined to win back a place in her heart.

But Montgomery had a policy: he didn't talk to his people about their personal issues unless it was interfering with their job. And since being able to compartmentalize was part of a cop's job description, there had never been a problem. Luckily, things had worked themselves out, the case had been solved, and everything had returned to its previous normal.

Then Josh had shown up.

Montgomery remembered it well. He had just helped Detectives Kevin Ryan and Javier Esposito pull a prank on Castle and Beckett. All five of them had been sharing a laugh when a male voice had interrupted the good-humour. It was no secret that Beckett didn't share, so no one could claim to actually be surprised when a leather-clad man with a dangerous smile and too much good-looks had walked through the door. While Beckett had gone to collect her things, Castle had launched into a soft interrogation; even going so far as to get right in Josh's face with his questions. And as Beckett and Josh had walked away with their arms around each other, it had been perfectly clear to Montgomery what the writer had been feeling: like someone had stolen his girl right out from under him.

Shaking his head, Montgomery sat in his chair and stared at the blinking cursor in front of him. Yes, those two were something else, all right. And while it certainly wasn't his place – or style – to interfere, deep down, if he was being truly honest with himself, there was a small part of him that was itching to sit them both down and say; _News flash, people. You're in love with each other. _

One day they'd figure it out.

Pushing the romantic drama from his mind, Montgomery was just about to hunker down and finish his damn email when the desk phone rang.

"_Jesus, _can't a man get any work done around here?" he muttered to the ficus plant.

He picked up the receiver.

"Montgomery."

"Roy, it's Charlie. I've got some bad news," a somber male voice replied. Immediately, Montgomery sat a little straighter in his chair. Captain Charles Dizemann was known behind his back as "Dice" thanks to a reputation of taking chances in difficult situations. He oversaw the 9th precinct and had been a friend of Montgomery's for decades.

"Good news or bad, Charlie, just give it to me straight."

Challenge issued, Dizemann didn't hold back. And what Montgomery heard next left him speechless.

The email would have to wait.


	2. Chapter 2

Wow, I can't tell you how awesome it is to have such positive feedback in such a short amount of time! Thank you all for your story alerts, story favs and reviews. They mean a lot!

A reefer, for anyone who doesn't know, is a street term for marijuana. I figured that with Ryan's background in narcotics, it was appropriate.

Anyway, on with the story. Enjoy, and as always – Castle belongs to ABC.

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Castle sat hunched in his usual chair next to Beckett's desk. He had brought them both coffee less than five minutes ago, but his mug now sat forgotten next to a bowl of jellybeans in favour of the intense game of iDuck Hunt he had just finished downloading to his phone. The graphics were terrible – meaning that they were a perfect replica of the original game he had played on his old Nintendo system back in the 80's. And as Castle held the iPhone inches from his nose, furiously watching the two crazed birds flying wildly around his screen, he futilely tried to win the round. But the birds were too fast, and in moments they flew away unscathed.

"Aw, _man_!" Castle whined as that annoying hound rose from the grass to laugh at him. Exiting the game and dropping the phone unceremoniously on Beckett's desk in exasperation, he looked at her dejectedly. "Stupid ducks wouldn't let me shoot them..."

The beautiful brunette looked up from her paperwork with a mischievous grin. "Gee, Castle, you'd think after hanging around the gun range so much you'd be a better shot."

"I will have you know, Detective," Castle shot back, quick to defend his honour, "that I was on level _ninety-nine_. And bad guys are usually," he held up his index finger to make a list, "one; not that small, and," he held up a second finger, "two; not that fast."

He had just started to reach for his coffee when his imagination kicked it into high gear and his eyes went wide.

"Unless…" Castle returned Beckett's questioning look with an expression that could only be described as sheer glee. "A mad scientist took – "

An arm shot out and suddenly his face was inches from her open palm.

"Stop right there!" she snapped, as her own face rearranged into an assorted look of mild horror, morbid curiosity, and a hint of amusement. "No need to regale me with a story about the creation of some criminal Frankenstein's monster made from the body parts of Road Runner and Speedy Gonzales."

She could tell from his gaping expression – despite the limited view through her splayed fingers – that he had, in fact, been thinking something along those lines. With a smug look, Beckett pulled her hand away and went back to work. Castle, meanwhile, continued to silently gape. It seemed that his creative flare was starting to rub off. Then he smiled.

"Thank you."

She looked up, smug look still firmly in place. "For what?"

"For saying Frankenstein's _monster_ instead of just _Frankenstein_. So many people think the name is the creature's when it's actually the man's. It drives me nuts."

Beckett's expression changed into a genuine smile. After the slightest hesitation, she softly admitted; "Yeah, me too."

They sat there exchanging looks of contentment with each other. To a stranger it would have appeared that they were lovers sharing some intimate secret. To those that knew them, the stranger wouldn't have been that far off the mark.

The moment came to an abrupt end, however, with the sound of a man clearing his throat. Startled, Castle and Beckett simultaneously jerked their heads upwards to find Detective Ryan looking uncomfortably down at them. All three were visibly embarrassed.

"Uh…sorry to interrupt…" the new-comer started.

Ryan managed a steady – albeit, uneasy – gaze at Beckett as he nervously played with the collection of papers in his hand. "I've got my final reports on the Lenzi case ready for you."

He waved the sheets absently in the air, then awkwardly leaned forward between Castle and his boss to drop the papers on her desk.

"Thanks, Ryan," Beckett half-murmured, wondering if her cheeks looked as hot as they felt.

Castle could only look at her and smile sheepishly.

"Yup," Ryan replied before making a quick getaway back to the safety of his desk.

His partner, Esposito, had a desk behind his and they worked with their backs to each other. Due to the setup, Esposito also worked with his back to Beckett's desk. Currently, the man was hunched over his workspace completing his own final reports.

Sitting down in his chair and swiveling fully around to face his partner's back, Ryan conspiratorially whispered; "Hey – Javi."

Esposito spun lazily around, pen in hand. "Yeah, bro?"

"What's going on with them?" The detective motioned behind him to the couple in question.

Esposito looked over Ryan's shoulder at Castle and Beckett. The writer was on his iPhone, and their boss was sipping coffee while perusing what he assumed were Ryan's files. The only thing even remotely out of the ordinary was the fact that Castle was even there. It was a paperwork day. But then, he had been hanging around during their caseless shifts more and more as of late. Since that dirty bomb nearly exploded in his and Beckett's faces, in fact. It didn't take a genius to figure out why.

"From the looks of it, I'd say…Castle's surfing for porn and Beckett's wondering where you learned how to spell?" Esposito ribbed with a smirk.

"Hey – I'm not the one who thinks 'accessory' has a 'k' in it," Ryan grinned wickedly. "No, I mean…just a second ago, the way they were looking at each other…I dunno, it kinda seemed like…like they'd split a reefer and were in La-La-Land together."

Esposito shook his head half at his partner's imagery and half at his apparent cluelessness. "And you call yourself a Detective," he scolded. "Bro, they _totally dig _each other." He said the last sentence slowly, as if explaining something to a child.

"Yeah, I know!" Ryan shot back indignantly. "But that look they were giving each other…" he shrugged, at a loss for words. "It was just _different _somehow, you know?"

Esposito was about to rib his partner some more when he noticed that Captain Montgomery was speaking quietly to the couple in question. A second later, Beckett and Castle were exchanging looks of trepidation as they got up to follow Montgomery back into his office.

"Hey – check it out," he said in a hushed whisper, nodding towards the trio.

Ryan swiveled in his chair and they both watched as Beckett, Castle, then Montgomery walked into the office and disappeared from view. The door was closed behind them. When Ryan turned back around, he and his partner exchanged their own looks of concern.

Esposito was the first to speak. "Whaddaya think that's about?"

"I dunno, man, but my cop senses are tingling."

"Your 'cop senses'?" was the incredulous reply. "Seriously?"

"Hey, shuddup. They're legit."

"Whatever, bro." Looking over his partner's shoulder at the door, he wouldn't admit it to Ryan but the feeling was mutual.

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"Have a seat," Montgomery said as he closed the door and gestured to the two black iron chairs which faced his desk. Many a browbeating had been delivered to victims in those chairs and to honour that, secretly, many years ago, he had named them. The chair on the left Castle was lowering himself into was 'Big Trouble', and Beckett went to sit down in the one on the right: 'Doomed'.

Going to his own seat, the captain fell into it heavily. He gave Beckett a measured look as he rested his arms on the desk and interlocked his fingers. Then he looked at Castle. Montgomery had spent only the span of a heartbeat trying to decide if the writer should be in the room or not for this. Considering what the pair had gone through together; how many times the man had put his neck out on the line for no other reason than to be there for her, the answer was obvious. He had more than earned the right to be in the room.

Looking back at Beckett, Montgomery thought about what he was about to say. When officers ascended up the ranks, they received training on how to properly deliver the kind of news he was about to share. Simply put, an officer's goal was to carefully choose words which would mitigate the shock, while at the same time not saying something that would lead the listener down the wrong path and cause them unnecessary grief. It was an art form, in a sense, and he knew only a handful of people who had truly mastered it. Beckett being one of them. But Beckett was also a cop, and like any cop, her first reaction would be to assume the worst – which made delivering bad news both easier and harder.

Heaving a sigh at her, he began.

"First of all, Beckett, you're not in any kind of trouble. Neither are you, Castle," he said, shooting a glance at the man who – interestingly enough – was sitting in Big Trouble. "You're in here because I've got some bad news about Mike Royce."

At the sound of her former training officer's name, Castle's head snapped to look at his partner. Beckett simply stiffened. Montgomery could almost see her run through different scenarios in her head, analyzing his choice of words and trying to put the puzzle together. She looked apprehensive, but remained silent. He knew to make this quick. No sugar-coating. Not with her.

"I'm sorry, Beckett. He was found shot dead earlier this morning."


	3. Chapter 3

Hi, all. So…this chapter was super, super hard to write. Mostly because I couldn't decide on whose perspective to take it from, so I ended up starting with Castle's, finding it incredibly difficult, then finally deciding to switch it over to someone else. But don't worry! The next (and I expect final) chapter will be from Castle's perspective.

Sorry for the delay, and as always; Castle is owned by ABC.

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Esposito tried to focus on his reports, but morbid curiosity combined with a sense of unease kept the detective distracted. Less than a minute after Beckett and Castle had been ushered away for their private meeting, Esposito got up and made his way to the now-empty break room. It was on the other side of the bullpen, but afforded him an almost direct view of the office.

He divided his time between making a coffee and blatantly staring past the open aluminum blinds on the windows which lined Montgomery's office. Inside, all three people were sitting which meant he could only see them from about the shoulders up. This was fine, though, as only their expressions concerned him. Montgomery was doing the talking from his desk and Esposito thought the captain looked just a bit more serious than usual. Sitting across from him, Beckett's profile was almost entirely blocking Esposito's view of Castle but it appeared that the writer was facing her. At that moment, however, Castle's reaction wasn't the important one. Something was going on with Beckett. She looked devastated.

"Shit, man," Esposito murmured as Ryan walked in to join the snooping. "This looks bad. This looks real bad."

"Yeah?" Ryan's voice was filled with concern and apprehension as he followed his partner's steady gaze. After a few moments of studying Beckett's expression, he turned back to Esposito with a look of absolute dread. "Whadda think?" he asked quietly. "Her dad?"

Esposito shook his head slowly. "God, I hope not. That girl's gone through enough."

"She's got a look like _that_? What else could it be?"

Cops. Always assuming the worst. At times, it was what kept them alive.

Before a reply could be formed, the detectives were interrupted by a newcomer; Detective Holt. The heavy-set man had burst into the break room looking flustered; his red face glistening with a thin layer of sweat. It looked like he had just run to the top of the Empire State Building rather than the single flight of stairs separating Robbery from Homicide. But, given the man's weight, his exhaustion probably had more to do with the not-so-secret stash of gummy bears under his desk.

Esposito not-so-secretly hated the man.

"Did you hear the news?" Holt asked wide-eyed through deep inhales. The question was directed at Ryan.

On any other day, Esposito would have jumped in with a burn probably involving Macy's and bras big enough to fit Holt's large size. Today was not that day. "What news?" he snapped, not taking his eyes from Montgomery's office and fearing there was a connection.

"I just got off the phone with Wiese over at the 9th." Holt rushed out his words between breaths, clearly suffering from shock as much as exhaustion. "And he said that he overheard Dice talking on the phone about it. Something like this, and word's gonna travel fast, you know?" As he paused to take another few breaths, Ryan and Esposito exchanged looks of trepidation. "Let me tell you...I didn't believe him at first, but he told me he hadn't believed it at first either, so he'd called up the uniforms to double-check. And trust me, this is gonna have everybody in a tail-spin since..."

"Since _what_, asshat?" Esposito interjected, feeling his blood pressure rise. "Get to the damn point."

Finally acknowledging the detective since entering the break room, Holt's look of contempt, however, quickly changed into one of mild fear when he saw the look on Esposito's face.

Suddenly deciding it was safer to cut to the chase, Holt did so. "_Mike Royce_ was _murdered._"

Nearby officers working at their desks snapped their heads over in surprise at the sound of Detectives Ryan and Esposito both exclaiming; "_What?_"

"Oh, geez..." Ryan started, as he slowly recovered from the initial shock. His eyes travelled from Holt to the office where Montgomery, Beckett, and Castle still gathered.

"Not her dad…_Royce_…" Esposito breathed, trying to overcome his astonishment as all the pieces fell into place. He had to admit, Montgomery had made a good call in pulling Beckett aside. Word would travel fast, and the last thing she needed was to casually overhear the news from a jackhole like Holt.

"So what happened?" Ryan's face was grim. "I heard he was getting out soon - don't tell me he got shived in jail."

"No, just got out this morning. Uni's told Wiese he'd been popped right next to his apartment. In an alleyway or something."

Esposito could only stare in amazed disbelief. Someone had taken out Royce; a trained officer of the law with decades of experience. In the daylight. With potentially a dozen witnesses around. The thought was as unbelievable as it was terrifying. Had it been a random mugging gone wrong...or did they have a cop killer on the loose?

"Keys? Wallet? Witnesses?" Ryan prodded, reading his partner's thoughts.

If it was possible, Holt's eyes widened even further. "Keys and wallet were still on him, and CSU's got nada. No prints, no shots heard – killer probably used a silencer. And get this - a bunch of people were on the street but were all distracted by a garbage can that was on fire a block down. Pretty crazy shit, huh? What'er the odds?"

Ryan and Esposito once again exchanged looks, each knowing what the other was thinking. A garbage can set on fire right before a former officer is murdered? That was no coincidence. That was pre-meditation.

Cop killer it was.

"They're just bringing him to the morgue now," Holt finished.

At the mention of the morgue, Esposito's eyes flashed in realization. Yanking the cell phone from his jean pocket, he speed dialed his girlfriend, Dr. Lanie Parish. The medical examiner picked up before the end of the first ring.

"Hey," she said. "I was just about to call you. I take it you've heard the news?"

"Damn right, I've heard the news. What the hell's going on?"

"I probably know about as much as you do, baby. Pearlmutter was the attending ME and he just got back in. There are other people who work here too, you know." There was a slight edge to her voice, but the next words were much softer. "How's our girl doing?"

"I dunno, but from the looks of it," he glanced at the office where it looked like the conversation was starting to heat up. "I'd say not good. She and Castle are in with Montgomery right now. He's been breaking it to her."

There was silence on the other end before Lanie responded quietly. "You know she'd been - "

"Yeah, I know," Esposito cut in, not wanting to think about it.

He did anyway.

Years ago, Beckett had been in love with Royce. He'd been her training officer and the one to show her the ropes. He had taken her under his wing. He had turned her into a real cop. And from what Esposito had heard around the water cooler, Beckett had idolized him. A relationship like that, and it was no surprise that she had fallen for him, too. Then, just shy of seven months ago when their lives had once again crossed paths, Royce had betrayed her. Threw away the trust, the friendship, the love...for what? Green pieces of paper. Thinking about it caused Esposito's blood to boil. How could Royce have done that to Beckett? To the badge? It made him sick.

"You said Castle's in there with her?" Lanie asked, breaking through Esposito's train of thought.

"Yeah, he's in there."

"Good. If anybody's gonna be able to help her through this, it's him. It should be him."

Esposito smiled bitterly at the phone, knowing she was right. They'd shared more than a few conversations about Castle and Beckett, most of them revolving around how two people so obviously into each other could somehow miss that fact.

He was about to agree, when Ryan hit his shoulder.

Esposito looked up just in time to see Beckett emerge from Montgomery's office and storm towards her desk. Castle was hot on her trail.

"It's Beckett," he reported to the phone. "She just came outta the office."

"How does she look?" Lanie asked anxiously. "Upset? Is she crying? Does she look – "

"She looks pissed," her boyfriend interjected. He then watched in silence as Beckett walked by her desk and without pausing, grabbed the spring jacket off the back of her chair and swung it over her shoulder. She was heading quickly for the elevators.

Castle, meanwhile, did pause at her desk in order to frantically pull Kleenexes from the box.

Esposito lowered his phone and called across the bullpen: "Castle!"

The writer's head shot up. His expression was a mixture of panic and heartbreak.

"Take care of her." It was a command as much as a threat.

Castle gave a quick nod before stuffing the Kleenexes in his suit pocket and jogging away to catch up with a disappearing Beckett.

Esposito brought the phone back to his ear to catch the tail end of something Lanie was saying. "Say that again?"

"I said 'tell me Castle is going after her'," came the anxious reply.

Esposito, Ryan, Holt, and most of the bullpen watched as Castle disappeared around the corner towards the elevators.

"You're damn right he's going after her."


	4. Chapter 4

Hi, all! First off, I'm sorry this is so short! I didn't mean for it to end up this way but after I started to get the pacing down I realized that I couldn't go on or I'd ruin the tempo of the chapter. So, I'm going to start another chapter (that's right, this isn't the end!) and get a different tempo going.

A big shout out to all my reviewers who have said such kind things about my little story. Much love to you all for your support!

Enjoy, and as always; Castle is owned by ABC.

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_Shot dead._

_Two GSWs through the chest._

_No more than two hours ago._

Castle's head buzzed with the voice of Captain Montgomery as hurried down the hallway after Beckett. There were several feet between them, but he was closing in.

_No sign of any fingerprints._

_No witnesses._

_Not a mugging._

He was an arms-length behind, now. Would she take the elevator? No, she needed to keep moving. She'd take the stairs.

_Planned distraction._

_Hired guns._

_Professional hit._

This early in the game, there was a lot of speculation and not a lot of evidence. A lot of questions but hardly any answers. Castle's gut told him this case would get worse before it got better. _If _it got better. But the voice of Esposito used that moment to jump in.

_Take care of her._

Even in his hurry, Castle had recognized it as a threat. It amazed him that Esposito thought one was necessary.

_Take care of her._

They passed the elevators and he winced for her when she slammed against the stairs exit door.

_Take care of her._

The threat had been unnecessary. His resolve had been set long ago.

_Take care of her._

And so help him, God.

_Take care of her._

He would do exactly that.

_Take care of her._

No matter what it took.


	5. Chapter 5

Oh no, another short chapter! I'm sorry. I just…I like where I'm ending it. Better to keep them short and keep them strong than let them drag on and lose their momentum, am I right? *crickets* No? *more crickets* ….guess I'm alone on this one.

Anywho, enjoy it anyway, as short as it is. I'm working on chapter six right now and geez, these things have a way of making themselves longer. Not that I'm complaining. It's been very fun (albeit, extremely difficult at times) to write.

DISCLAIMER: As always, Castle is owned by ABC.

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Inside the stairwell, the machine-gun _clack-clack-clack-clack-clack _of Beckett's heels hitting the concrete steps echoed up the walls as she made her descent. They were closely followed by the sound of a heavier set of footsteps. Through her fury, it took her a moment to register that Castle was close behind.

A part of Beckett was surprised by this realization. She remembered asking Montgomery through her grief to lay down the facts. She remembered how her anguish had been slowly replaced with burning vengeance at his answers. She remembered Montgomery recommending that she take the rest of the day off. She remembered protesting. She remembered being ordered to go home.

That had been the detonation button.

Her growing fires of revenge exploded into an inferno of rage. Beckett had blasted out of Montgomery's office without a backwards glance. She'd been so overcome with fury she hardly registered how her coat came to be swung over her shoulder or how she'd gotten into the stairwell, let alone that she'd been followed.

Racing down the stairs, her mind careened from thought to vicious thought.

How _dare _the captain try and force her to go home when _every second_ of an investigation counted? It was insanity! There were leads to follow. There was evidence to gather. How could he do this to her? There was no _way _she was going home. She was a detective, damn it. Why couldn't she do her job? Didn't he think she could handle it? She could handle it! Why should she waste precious time "decompressing" when Royce's murderer was still…

Oh, God.

Beckett had just taken her second step on the landing between the fourth and third floors when the jolting reminder of _Royce's murderer _stopped her in her tracks.

Royce.

The fire inside her was suddenly extinguished. And in its place came that sick, sick feeling of a hole being punched through her chest.

Oh…God.

It felt like someone was now slowly pouring concrete into that hole. She staggered under the dead weight which seemed to be spreading into every cell of her body, and immediately felt an iron grip on her upper arm.

"Kate…?" The voice was so close behind her, yet sounded so far away.

Her opposite hand, still clutching the spring jacket draped over her shoulder, released its grip and both her arm and coat fell. The coat hit the floor. Her arm hit her side. And a moment later, she felt an iron grip on it as well.

"_Kate…_" The voice was more insistent now.

Beckett opened her mouth to speak, but found that the concrete filling her insides had made words impossible. She couldn't answer. Beckett could barely breathe. It was as if she was being pulled under. It was as if she was drowning. And with each passing moment, she felt less able to withstand the sheer force that was towing her down. Down into an abyss she knew far too well.

Beckett realized she couldn't do it. Fighting against the ever-increasing pull was just too hard.

So she gave up the battle and let it tow her under.


	6. Chapter 6

Yay! Done! And just in time for the actual episode. I watched all the little sneak peaks and it looks like I was waaaay off-base with this whole reaction-to-Royce's-death thing, but oh well. Creative liberties, I guess!

I'm planning on doing an epilogue (hopefully before Monday, but I can't make any promises) just to bring everything back full-circle.

Enjoy, and as always – Castle is owned by ABC.

x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o

Castle reached the landing between the Homicide and Robbery floors only to have Beckett abruptly stop her fast-paced descent. A step behind, he regarded her rigid form in surprise. She had gone from a mad dash to a stand-still in half a second – it was as if someone had flipped a switch and given her an electric shock.

What had caused the sudden halt?

Castle opened his mouth to dare voice the question, but never got the chance. At that moment, Beckett stumbled forward towards the edge of the stairs and Castle reacted on instinct. His right hand shot out and grabbed her right forearm; partially to hold her steady, and partially to keep her from getting too close to the stairs.

His mind reeled.

"Kate...?" Beckett's first name fell past his lips. It was a name Castle reserved only for times when the world was about to swallow her up.

Times like right now.

What was happening? The writer wracked his brain trying to remember the bit of research he had done years ago on the seven phases of loss. He knew the first two phases well enough from watching Beckett work through them with her victims' families. Shock was phase one. Pain was phase two. And with the possibility of lasting from minutes to decades, Castle was always fascinated by how quickly or slowly each individual would journey through them.

Sitting in Montgomery's office, however, the writer had felt anything but fascination. He had witnessed Beckett push through the shock and force herself through the pain. He shouldn't have been surprised that she had the strength to do so – to drive it away and focus on her responsibilities as a homicide detective. She had asked questions. She had fished for clues. She had pushed the pain aside in order to do her job. The woman truly was nothing short of extraordinary. But despite these efforts, Castle could tell what it was costing her. It had certainly been clear enough for Montgomery to spot, and the captain's remedy had been for Beckett to take the rest of the day off. But Castle suspected that what had started as a well-meaning suggestion had ended up being the trigger for the next phase. When she had stormed from the office hell-bent on going anywhere but home, even the idiots being hauled away for yet another B&E would have correctly guessed what Beckett had been feeling: phase three. Anger.

Luckily, Castle was fairly accustomed to Angry Beckett. And he certainly had enough experience in dealing with scores of other enraged women – jilted lovers, booking agents, publishers, his mother and daughter, random fans who didn't like the way his latest novel had ended – to know that the safest thing to do sometimes was keep your mouth shut and just let them vent. As he had chased after Beckett, he had prepared himself for that. Prepared himself for the rage, for the screaming, and since this was_ Beckett_; for the almost certainty of violence. But he was willing to take a few bruises (and worse) if it meant helping her through this a little faster. It's what he had promised, wasn't it? To take care of her, no matter what? But now, in the cold confinements of the stairwell, the writer felt an uneasy sense of dread at this new development.

Castle watched as Beckett's left arm, the one that was still holding up the jacket swung over her shoulder, slipped and fell. The sound of her coat hitting the floor had mimicked the thud of her arm hitting her side. He immediately grabbed the limp forearm.

"_Kate…_" The anxiety Castle felt steadily grew as his imagination concocted a myriad of explanations and outcomes for their current state. Nothing he could come up with, however, was close to what came next.

Beckett crumbled; and as Castle instantly pulled her backwards and against him, a single thought exploded in his brain which made everything heartbreakingly clear.

Phase four: depression.

When Beckett collided with his chest, Castle released one hand in order to scoop his arm around her ribs. Instantly securing his grip there, he released his other hand so to repeat the action and amplify his ability to keep her upright. Beckett sagged in his embrace, but remained standing. He could feel, however, that her strength was slowly ebbing away.

Castle tried to concentrate on what to do next, but it felt like he'd been sucker punched right in the gut. He had been ready for anger, and perhaps even some eventual tears. But this? Castle had never seen Beckett like this before. And it scared him.

As she steadily grew heavier in his arms, however, the writer knew he had to act fast. The man was strong, but holding up Beckettversus holding up 130-something pounds of dead weight was infinitely different.

Picking the easiest and safest option currently available, Castle half walked, half dragged his partner backwards the few steps it took to reach the landing's far wall. Still a few inches away, he let himself fall against it with a muffled thud, and after spreading his legs out for maximum support, used the wall as leverage in order to slowly and carefully slide down its cool surface.

Beckett didn't resist.

When they reached the floor, Castle unbent his knees and stretched his legs out along the detective's. Her head had come to rest limply against his right shoulder and the rest of her body had fully relaxed against him. Castle tried to relax as well. After all, he had imagined her like this, wrapped up in his embrace, so many countless times. Sitting on some tropical beach watching the sun set across the water. Relaxing by a fire after a day of skiing in the Alps. Curled up on his couch and playfully discussed which Hollywood star would make the best Green Lantern.

But not like this. Never, ever like this.

Beckett was relaxed, but in a way that made her seem lifeless; as if her soul had been sucked out by some unseen evil. It both unnerved him and caused his heart to plummet down to the parking garage almost four stories below.

And her eyes…

Castle shuddered, and looked away from her profile. Pressing his cheek into her hair, he vowed to never let that dead expression cross her face again.

Removing his left arm from around her waist, he raised it up and began to lightly caress her auburn locks.

"Hey," he whispered, giving her a gentle squeeze with the arm remaining around her torso. "Hey…listen to me. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay."

Beckett didn't respond.

He continued the light caresses, but raised his head from hers in order to look back down at her profile. Switching tactics, he continued. "You and I, we are going to solve this case. We are going to catch whoever did this, and we are going to make him pay."

Still, nothing.

"I am with you one hundred and fifty percent," he stated firmly. "Whatever needs to happen, no matter what kinds of strings need to be pulled, I will find a way to make it happen. We are going to close this case. _We are going to find justice_."

Silence.

"Come on, Kate," Castle pleaded, shaking her lightly. He was starting to feel desperate. "Please. Say something."

It was agonizing to see her like this, with her dead eyes and utter unresponsiveness. He felt ready to do anything at that point to get some sort of reaction from her. Light his eyebrows on fire. March a parade down the stairs. Blast that new Britney Spears song she hated. Tell her he –

Oh.

Castle knew in that moment what he had to do. It was one of his so-crazy-it-just-might-work theories, but damn it, if there was ever a time to try something crazy…this was probably it. And if this didn't get some kind of reaction – good or bad, he almost didn't care – then God help them all.

He stopped stroking her hair in order to cup the side of Beckett's face and angle it more towards his own. Staring into her eyes, the writer tried to convey everything he felt with them.

"Kate," Castle began, feeling his heart booming in his chest. This was it. All these years, all the flirting and banter, fights and laughs….it had all come down to this moment. "I want you to listen to me very carefully, because what I'm about to say is extremely important. And while I don't know what you'll think, and I don't know if it will make any difference to you, I have to say it anyway." He took a shaky breath. "From the moment you crashed my book signing party three years ago, I knew there was something about you. Yes, I found you incredibly attractive. And yes, my immediate thought was how good you'd be in bed, but that was before I got to know you. That was before I got to know how incredibly intelligent you are. And how compassionate. How tough you are…how funny, brave, witty, dedicated, caring…I could go on and on for days. Sufficient to say, you the most amazing woman I've ever met, and you can't spend all your time around someone like that and _not _have it change you. Kate, you have changed me. You have changed me in ways you can't even begin to imagine. You have inspired me, and because of you, I have become a better father, a better son, a better friend…and a better _person_."

Castle stopped there to let the message sink in before he went for the big finish. It appeared that Beckett's expression had remained much the same. But maybe - just maybe – he could see something slightly different in her look. Something that told him she was listening. He prayed to God he was right.

"And when you consider all of that," he continued, his voice thick with emotion, "I guess it's really no surprise why, Katherine Beckett, I am so _completely_ in love with you."

Feeling relieved that it was over, hopeful that his confession would do the trick, and terrified that he had just made the biggest mistake of his life, Castle leaned forward and pressed his lips to Beckett's forehead. It was a simple kiss, physically. But emotionally, Castle poured everything he had into it.

When he pulled away a few heartbeats later, his eyes immediately found that hers were closed. Castle almost stopped breathing as he waited. And waited.

And waited.

Then – Beckett slowly opened her eyes and met his gaze. And what he saw took away his last bit of breath.

Her eyes were sparkling, like the stars do after a deep fog has finally lifted away, leaving only an endless inky sky and the twinkling of the universe. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

"Rick," Beckett whispered, as the tiniest smile began to form.

Castle's heart leapt at the sound of his first name. He smiled back tenderly as he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"I love you, too." She sniffed. "Now let's go catch us a killer."

"Let's do it," the writer replied, his smile widening into a huge grin. "But first, did you want a Kleenex?"


End file.
